


Sun on a strange roof

by redhearted



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Football, Football | Soccer, Gen, Spain, Spanish National Team, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhearted/pseuds/redhearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of David's retirement from the national team, Spain's entry into a new time of transition, and life in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun on a strange roof

This wasn't the first Spain match he had watched on the television instead of on the pitch or from the sidelines. It wasn't even the first Spain match he had watched since he had retired, just a few short months ago. But it was the first Spain match he had ever watched after retirement all by himself.

This is how it is: the television screen is wide, the commentary loud without blaring, in Spanish, of course. He is sitting on the clean unfamiliar but comfortable couch with nothing but a jug of water and his phone to keep him company. If he looks to his right, he can see into the Australian night. The sky is midnight blue, and stretches wide and cloudless.

Sometimes, when he's watching the match and something like a familiar expression or gesture jolts him from his skill and tactic analysis, filing him with that sudden, unforewarned sadness, he makes himself look outside at that night view. It makes him think of something else. It makes him think of where he is, what he has, how much he has had and still has to be grateful for. He's grateful to be playing in a new, wonderful country. He misses his family, but they had had such fun exploring another new city and he can't wait until they come to visit him here, too. Yes, he's happy.

Warmed by this, he turns back to the television screen. It is a new normal that he is still getting used to, his retirement, and also Spain's entry into a time of transition. And yes, sometimes that grief for times now past will sneak up on him. It hurts, but he supposes that in a contrary sort of way, he's glad it hurts. It means he has had good times. He has had things worth hurting over, many things.

So, for now, he enjoys the present. Feeling the hurt, nostalgia, love, joy, that settles in his heart. He's happy.

When the match ends, he opens the sliding doors and steps out onto the balcony, taking a deep breath of fresh, crisp air. He can hear the insects in the trees and the gentle rustling of leaves far above his head. So he looks up. Against the backdrop of midnight blue, still breathing deep and slow, he closes his eyes. Instead of life flashing before his eyes, he thinks about it: her eyes, she who he's known for almost half his life, now. Their sweet smiles and kisses and even their childish tempers. The strength and beauty of the woman and man who raised him; his family. And, the faces and words and shared sufferings and euphoria of the men he had played with on pitches around the world.

Some things ended; some were beginning; some would never change.


End file.
